Walk With You
by Miss Yvonne
Summary: This is about Craig's life before he came to Degrassi.
1. Where it all starts, baby

"These ants!" I exclaimed suddenly as one crawled up my hand. In a lower voice, I added, "I'm going to kill all the little fuckers, I swear..."  
  
"Language, Craig," said Macy cooly as I squished the insect between two fingers. She caught me.  
  
"Jesus, Craig! That's bad karma, you know."  
  
"I could care less," I replied, laughing. "When is this class gonna be over?" Art with Mr. Cloutier always sucked. He was half-deaf and would always suddenly shout out pointless advice to us.  
  
"I don't wanna see any sketching, people!" Mr. Cloutier yelled characteristically. I rolled my eyes and went back to shading my train drawing.  
  
"You wanna come over today?" I whispered to Macy. She nodded and looked at the clock just as the bell rang. She shoved a piece of paper into one of my books and winked.  
  
"It's from Loni," she said with a smile. I groaned. Why was Macy friends with her again?  
  
  
  
During my next class, I opened up the note tentatively. I winced as I saw the traditional, Loni-ish curlicue lettering.  
  
  
  
craig - did u get the last letter i sent u last time? im not gonna send these with macy nemore becuz i think she reads them - u should meet me at the fair on sunday if ur not doing nething call me love loni  
  
I shuddered, but I'd probably have to go. Loni Porter was Macy's best friend, for some inexplicable reason. She was very short, bubbly, and trendy. Her personality was for shit, too, but Macy loved putting us in little romantic "get-aways" with one another.  
  
I yawned and put my head down on the desk, anticipating eagerly in paying off some sleep debt. Last night had been long...  
  
At 9:15 PM last night, I had been doing my homework like a good kid should. Hahah. Then Macy called me.  
  
"Hey Macy," I mumbled sleepily into the phone while flipping through channels. "What's up?"  
  
"A party, that's what! You coming or not?" she whispered excitedly. I looked warily at dad's closed door; he was working.  
  
But to pass up the chance to spend time with Macy...  
  
"C'mooonn, Craig. Loni'll be there." Her voice teemed with exhilaration.  
  
Glad to get my mind off the decision, I smiled into the phone. "Where did you ever get the idea that I like her?"  
  
"Well, she likes you, and everybody likes her. Are you coming or not?"  
  
I exhaled deeply. "Where is it?"  
  
"Jim Wise's house...that's where I am now. We're watching Pee-Wee Herman reruns, so get here fast!"  
  
The phone went quiet. She had hung up. I placed the phone on the hook quietly and put the remote on the coffee table. I got up and gave the television one last look, leaving it on so dad wouldn't suspect that anything was up.  
  
The party was in Jim's basement, and Loni greeted me with a firm hug, which I returned while making a face at Macy over her shoulder. Macy giggled with her hand over her mouth. She killed me when she did that. Why didn't Macy like me, rather than this buffoon in pink?  
  
Loni's older brother, Kyle, was there. He was smoking cigarettes idly while overseeing the party. He offered me a cigarette.  
  
"No thanks; I don't smoke," I replied hastily. Macy walked towards me, her eyes gleaming.  
  
"Do you pot, then?" I grinned.  
  
"Sure," I replied, taking the joint from her hand. I took a drag and sat down. To my horrible disgust, Loni had sat down on my lap. I sighed and looked at Macy helplessly.  
  
What seemed like a few minutes later, I looked at the clock. It was 12:47. I gulped and got up, exiting the party quietly.  
  
I obviously couldn't go home; dad would go positively nuts. Instead, I camped out on a park bench under a street lamp and closed my eyes.  
  
A few minutes later I heard a car pull up and a person get out. I squeezed my eyes tightly, knowing who it was by the gruff nasal breathing.  
  
"Get the fuck up." He didn't touch me; he merely commanded me. I pretended to be asleep, hoping he'd buy it.  
  
"Get the fuck up, you lousy piece of shit." He grabbed my shoulder and rolled me onto the sidewalk, where I landed with a thud. I opened my eyes wildly as he grabbed my collar and pulled me to my feet.  
  
"Get in the damn car."  
  
Once home, he proceeded to yell in my face until he went blue. I was then pushed against a wall and thrown down the hallway stairs.  
  
Welcome home, son.  
  
Needless to say, I was tired. And sore, awfully sore, especially on my back, sides, and legs. The stairway in our house was pure oak.  
  
"Mr. Manning, I advise you wake up before I assign you another Saturday." The voice of Mrs. Kentwood startled me, and I sat up in my seat.  
  
  
  
How I longed for the end of school, and how I dreaded the thought of dad. I wished Macy would like me and move away with me somewhere. 


	2. This is where it gets sticky

"Ahh, you're overreacting. Here," Macy said to me frankly. "I'll help get you cleaned up."  
  
"I can't believe this...this is disgusting!" I said, cringing.  
  
Shall I relate the day's events?  
  
Sure. Today was the day of the fair Macy, Loni, and I had planned to go to together. It was pretty lame, but not especially bad. Loni kept trying to hold my hand, which was met with blatant indifference.  
  
"Oh! Buy me some kettle corn! I love that stuff!" Loni instructed. I obeyed and bought her a bag.  
  
"Here, have some!"  
  
"No thanks."  
  
Macy was walking with us. "I'll take some!"  
  
"No, let Craig have it. He bought it, after all." Loni grinned stupidly, and I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. Most guys would have done anything to get under her shirt; she certainly wasn't bad-looking. She was very curvy, as if she had been a tall person squished down to 5'0". She had very big eyes and long black hair, usually pulled back.  
  
I looked at Macy as we walked. She wasn't perfect, but she was. She was wearing a long jean skirt, a Bright Eyes tee-shirt, and sandals which revealed her orange toenails. She was so...Macy.  
  
Loni munched on the kettle korn the entire time, through the Monster, the Weaver, the Triple Loop, and the Jet Plane rides. We took a break from rides to rent paddleboats (at my expense). Macy rented one and tried to keep up with us, steering and paddling by herself. Even in the middle of the mucky fairground water, I was tempted to jump in and join her. But, as it was, I was stuck with Loni.  
  
We paddled slowly in the murky water while Loni steered and I ran my fingers through the water, thinking about Loni and Macy and this mess I was in.  
  
I looked up into the bright white sky. The sun was gone, but it was light everywhere in a sickeningly dull way. I noticed that we weren't on the paddleboat path any longer. We had stopped.  
  
I looked over at Loni, sighing in my mind. Here we go.  
  
"You know, Macy thinks we're, like, ahead of her. But I took a route that my ex-boyfriend used to take me on here." Great. I was reliving her past experiences.  
  
She looked up at me (as I was quite taller than she was) with her big brown eyes.  
  
"Oh, Craig, you know how much I, like...well, like you. And I know you like me, too, Macy told me..."  
  
I was furious. Macy told her what? I like who now? But my expression remained serene and Loni took no notice.  
  
Before I knew it, real life interrupted. All of a sudden, Loni was leaning up expectantly, her eyes wide open. She put her hand on my waist and kissed me. I was totally unprepared, but immediately modified to my surroundings. Our lips locked, and I closed my eyes, pretending that who I was kissing was Macy. Loni tasted like kettle corn.  
  
After the...event, we managed to get back to the dock. Macy was waiting there, tapping her shoe wildly and digging around in her enormous purse. I smiled.  
  
We went back to the rides after Loni carefully reapplied her lipstick ("Macy, do you, like, have a mirror?"). I put both my hands in my pockets and felt something. Pulling it out, I realized it was the disposable camera from the last school field trip. There were eight pictures left. I took one of Macy when Loni wasn't looking.  
  
After riding the Tilt-a-Whirl, we decided to take another break.  
  
As we sat on the bench, I took a picture of my feet. Macy saw this and grabbed the camera from my hands.  
  
"Hey!" I cried out in mock indignance.  
  
She laughed with her hand over her mouth. "Hahah, smile, you two."  
  
Loni staightened immediately, and I obligingly put my arm around her shoulder. The picture was taken, and our break, over. Macy put my camera in her purse.  
  
The last ride we rode was the Twin Spinners. There were two college-age guys running it, and they gave Loni and I a good spin (Macy went with some adult that none of us knew.) The ride spun instantly into the air, still rotating independently. The ride went on for several minutes, and I started to feel sick.  
  
But, apparently, Macy was feeling even more sick. She ended up puking all the kettle corn I had bought her, all over me and herself. We were still whirling in mid-air, and I could see Macy laughing at us every few seconds.  
  
We got off the ride and Macy went to Loni first, who was crying. The two guys running the ride said not to worry about it; it happened all the time. We were heading over to the bathrooms, a revolting, sticky mess. Just before I popped into the men's room, Macy withdrew my camera from her purse and took a picture of me, my hair matted down with half-digested fairground food.  
  
After I was cleaned off for the most part, Macy led me to a nearby hose while Loni continued washing herself off and crying in the ladies'. Macy saw my face and grinned.  
  
"Ahh, you're overreacting. Here," Macy said to me frankly. "I'll help get you cleaned up."  
  
"I can't believe this...this is disgusting!" I said, cringing. But as Macy sprinkled the cool water over my pants and rubbing the stuff out with her hands, I couldn't help but crack a smile. 


	3. The party with plenty of embarrassment

It was two weeks after the kettle corn incident, and I was on my way to a birthday party.  
  
Kyle Porter, Loni's brother, was turning 19, and Loni had invited me to it. I liked Kyle, so I grabbed some guitar picks and headed over.  
  
"Craig, my man! I see you got me some guitar picks." Kyle grinned. He wasn't a bad-looking guy, Kyle. He looked a lot like Loni, but guy-ish. I wished I could look that good; Macy had a crush on him.  
  
The greatest thing about the newly 19 Kyle was that he was too old to date Macy (at least in her mother's eyes). That left her open for me.  
  
The party was at the Porter home, and I had only ever been there once, which was when I was partnered up with Loni to do an algebra project. It was a nice place, real huge.  
  
"Hey Kyle, where's the little boys' room?" I asked, having had one too many Jones Sodas.  
  
"Top of the stairs and turn left," he yelled, and went back to making out with an anonymous brunette.  
  
I lumbered up the stairs while looking at the portraits on the wall. They were mainly of Loni, Kyle, and their older sisters. I walked down the hall past Loni's room.  
  
After relieving myself, I was surprised to hear crying. Walking down the upstairs hallway, I traced it back to Loni's room.  
  
"What's wrong, Loni?" I asked. Her mascara was running.  
  
"Nothing. Well...you haven't been paying attention to me at all at this party."  
  
"I'm sorry; I've been hanging out with the birthday boy."  
  
"Oh." She smiled weakly. "Come in, sit down." She patted the bed.  
  
I obediently went in and seated myself.  
  
"Soooo," I said, looking at my hands, "what's up?"  
  
She was smiling now. "Nothing, wanna make out?"  
  
I was taken aback. "Uhhm, sure." She sat down next to me and leaned up towards me. She was kinda cute, I guess. Not beautiful, though. As I studied her face closely, I noticed smile lines, which would someday become wrinkles. I noticed her tanned shoulders, which would someday become leathery. I was almost sickened by the very thought of her ten years from now, but before I could do anything, her kisses enveloped me.  
  
She giggled between kisses. "You're a great guy." She put her hands under my shirt and started to rub my back with cold hands. I shivered and wondered what I should do with my hands. Improvising, I put one arm around her back and rested my other hand on her breast. It seemed okay, so I went on.  
  
It was at the point when she started to unbutton my jeans that I said stop.  
  
"What's wrong?" Loni asked me, almost panting.  
  
"Uhh...nothing..."  
  
She smiled widely, revealing toothpaste-commercial white teeth. "You've never done it before, have you?"  
  
"No! Of course I have..."  
  
She bit her lower lip and tittered. "Don't worry; every cherry has his day. I mean, you're hard, don't you want to - "  
  
I hadn't even realized that I was sporting a hard-on. I quickly blushed crimson.  
  
What made it even worse was that, at that moment, Macy walked by.  
  
I had left the bedroom door open. Macy stopped, gave the scene a once-over, stared especially at my crotch (which I vainly attempted to hide), and gave us both the thumbs up before shutting the door and walking away again.  
  
I squinted my eyes shut and rubbed my temples. 


	4. Maybe someday it'll be better

I covered my face. "Goddamnit..."  
  
"What's wrong?" Loni implored. She was unhooking her bra under her shirt.  
  
"No, Loni, don't...I really have got to go..." I felt sick to my stomach. Why did Macy have to see me like that?  
  
I buttoned my jeans and stood, looking down at Loni through the corner of my eye. She looked very hurt.  
  
"What did I do?"  
  
"Nothing," I sighed, "I just have to go." I blinked. "What time is it?"  
  
"There's a clock downstairs," she replied icily.  
  
I went through the hall and down the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief as I saw the clock reading 6:40. I wasn't late for supper.  
  
While walking home, I thought a lot about the incident in the room. If Macy thought I liked Loni before, she's going to think we're screwing each other now. Why did I always mess things up? I didn't even like Loni.  
  
All I could think about was Macy. Macy, Macy, Macy, Macy, Macy...  
  
When I got home, dad was laying the dishes out onto the table.  
  
"Heya, Craig. Was doubting you'd show up." He was strangely upbeat. He patted me on the back of my shoulder. Well, he gave me a good smack on the back of my shoulder, which nearly knocked the breath out of me. I sensed no malice, however, and sat down. We ate quietly.  
  
"You got a letter today." I looked up.  
  
"Really, from who?" I asked, almost afraid to. He was speaking coldly.  
  
"Your mother. She wants you to visit her."  
  
"Wait, you read my mail?" I got up.  
  
He got up as well, towering over me, it seemed. "It had her postmark on it. It was my right, damnit, to read what my wife had to say."  
  
I didn't even bother to correct his "Wife" statement. "What the hell is wrong with you, dad? You read my fucking mail!"  
  
He knocked his and my glass off of the table when he thrust his fists against it. They clattered to the ground, the glass crunching under my shifting feet. He then left the room and tore up the stairs.  
  
I walked over hurriedly to the bottom of the steps. "Where's my letter, dad? Where is it?"  
  
I saw him walk out of his room above me, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his teeth clenched. He was weilding my wooden baseball bat from little league.  
  
My mouth became ajar. "Dad, cut it out..." I backed away from the bottom of the stairs as he slowly began to descend them.  
  
"Dad, don't...don't..." My heartbeat quickened to that of racing, and I leaned against the wall in the corner. He reached the bottom of the steps and stood very close to me, bat in hand. He was about four inches away from me, and I could smell his putrid breath as I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst...  
  
He got me in the gut with the end of the bat, the handle. I doubled over as he stepped back, and I looked up at him in pain and disbelief. As soon as our gazes met, he dropped the bat.  
  
He didn't seem to comprehend what he had done just seconds beforehand, and he held out a hand to help me up. I took it and got up slowly, still unable to stand up fully.  
  
"Your letter's on the coffee table...here, let me get you some ice..." He seemed genuinely concerned as he helped me over to the living room and onto the couch.  
  
I looked at the ragged letter on the coffee table, which looked as if it had been crumpled up several times. Dad came back shortly with an ice pack, and he then went upstairs.  
  
I was left alone with my letter. 


	5. The Revelation

I looked at the crumpled letter in my hands while rubbing my stomach sadly. I wished he didn't do that...I guess it wasn't his fault. He's been under a lot of pressure.  
  
'Dear Craig,' it read in my mother's robust handwriting. 'How have you been, sweetheart?' I smiled at that. Hand-written letters had always made me feel like the person spent more time into writing to me. I don't know.  
  
'You are probably very happy living with your father, but I think you should have a chance to come a visit me, visit us. You know you have a little sister, Angie. You've never seen her, I know, but I feel that you two would have an instant affinity...I know that it's up to your father to make such decisions, as you are still a minor, but I think you should at least have a choice. Please consider this, and please don't show this to your father. I know how upset he gets sometimes. If he ever does anything to hurt you, I'm just a phone call away.' I winced at these words. I wouldn't call her, not after dad exploded like that.  
  
'I miss you, and I wish you could meet Joey, your stepfather, and Angie. Love, Mom.'  
  
I put the letter carefully onto the coffee table once more, smoothing out the edges and patting the wrinkles in the paper down. I reflected silently on the letter for a few moments, and got up.  
  
Instantly, I buckled over and fell back onto the couch. Deciding not to fight the pain in my gut, I instead sprawled out onto the couch and turned off the light. I began to snooze quietly.  
  
As soon as I had closed my eyes, it seemed, I opened them. I got up with a start, and instantly fell back onto the couch again, rubbing my stomach. I looked at the clock on the mantlepiece.  
  
"Holy shit! I'm late!" It was 10:45.  
  
I got up instantly, running up to throw some clean clothes. I pulled on a flannel while hurrying downstairs in my socks. I grabbed a Pop Tart and opened the fridge, looking for some orange juice.  
  
After I hurriedly poured myself a glass, I threw down the Pop Tart and the sneakers that were halfway on my feet. "Fuck this," I muttered. I walked back into the living room and turned on the television.  
  
At around four o'clock, there came a knocking on the side door. I scratched the back of my neck as I answered it.  
  
"Hi, Macy," I said quietly while rubbing my stomach. It still hurt to stand up.  
  
"Stomachache, huh? You've been sick a lot lately. I brought you your homework." She walked in wearing a yellow 1940's sundress with her hair tied back in pigtails. I liked it when she pulled her hair back; then I could see the mole under her left ear...  
  
"Thanks," I mumbled with a smile. "What's up?"  
  
She sat down at the breakfast table. "You'll never believe what happened today!"  
  
I pulled up a chair next to her as she set her books down onto the table. "No, what?"  
  
"Well," she started, looking directly at me with her hazel eyes and her perfect lips and her Joan Jett nose...  
  
"Weellll," she continued, her eyes darting, "When Kyle Porter was picking up Loni after school today, he asked me out!" 


End file.
